


You Are Not Your Choices

by jokeywrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, I'm bad at tags, Is that a thing, Keith (voltron) has PTSD, Lance does too but ya know, M/M, Marriage, Married Life, PTSD, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Shiro is mentioned briefly, broganes, is that a tag, this is for a friends birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jokeywrites/pseuds/jokeywrites
Summary: DISCLAIMER: any and all mentions of PTSD are taken from my own experiences with the illness and how it effects me/how i deal with it. i do not intend to speak for any others on how the disease affects them/how they cope with it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: any and all mentions of PTSD are taken from my own experiences with the illness and how it effects me/how i deal with it. i do not intend to speak for any others on how the disease affects them/how they cope with it.

It’s stifling hot in their room, and yet, Keith doesn’t complain like he usually does. He reads on and off throughout most of the day, hardly lifting his eyes from the pages even when Lance nudges him in an attempt to gain his attention. Lance doesn’t really know why he bothers. There’s no reaching Keith when he’s like this.

 

Still, he tries.

 

It’s been ten long years since their return to Earth, and Lance still isn’t used to this. Never thinks he will be, honestly. Late evening sun filters through their bedroom window, glittering beautiful against the gold band that peaks around the edge of Keith’s book. Lance lifts his hand, letting the sun shine on his matching one. Somehow, it doesn’t seem nearly as pretty on days like this.

 

Keith handles it the worst out of the four of them. The return to Earth, that is. He had no family to come back to. He had no one to dump the very real horrors and losses of war on besides Lance. For some reason he seems to think that’s a burden to Lance.

 

“ _I don’t want to hurt you, Lance._ ”

 

“ _We both did things out there, Keith_.”

 

The thought comes out of nowhere, a stupid fight they always seem to come back to, and Lance snorts. His lover’s eyes falter in their journey across the page in front of him, turning to raise one raven colored eyebrow in question. Lance does no more than shake his head and lay a gentle hand over the other man’s knee, rubbing soothing circles into the pale skin there. His fingers graze a faded scar and the movement falters, eyes watching carefully for any sign that Keith may have noticed. Keith merely continues to read.

 

Any other day, Lance would be content to watch this. He would stay stretched across the bottom of their bed, too lazy to rise and find a shirt to pull over his bare and scarred chest.

 

Today, however, he couldn’t pull a shirt on fast enough.

 

If today were any other day, he’d watch Keith read for hours without a single worried thought popping their happy bubble. Maybe he’d crack a few jokes and Keith’s airy laugh would join the humid air around them. The very walls around them would smile at the sound of it. Everything would come alive just to hear the snippet of sound before it faded back into blissful silence.

 

Today, however, Lance is quiet, and so is Keith. He’s so very quiet and unlike any other day, his eyebrows are knit together as he reads. His bottom lip is pulled into his mouth, being chewed until it’s cracked and bloody upon release.

 

If today were any other day, Lance would know exactly how to pull Keith back from the edge.

 

It’s well into the night when Keith finally can’t hold back any longer, the book falling from his stiff fingers to rest on his chest. His eyes find Lance, lying right where he had been all day, and they begin to fill with tears. His breathing starts to pick up, coming out in short little huffs. He’s reaching toward Lance, hands shaking and some kind of plea just on the edge of his trembling lips.

 

Lance is already one step ahead, swatting the book onto the floor and pulling Keith down to lay beside him. “Hey, sh sh sh. It’s okay.”

 

It’s always a surprise how strong Keith is when he’s trying to ground himself. Frantically, his arms wrap around Lance like a vice, his body twisting until he finds his way onto Lance’s chest. His breathing is completely erratic, coming in short huffs half the time, and then in drawn out wheezes in an attempt to calm himself.

 

Finally, when Lance’s fingers are on their eleventh trip up Keith’s tensed back, and the other’s breathing has calmed into desperate sobs, Keith speaks for the first time that day, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize for this, Keith.”

 

And now it’s time for the cool down. Keith struggles a minute, the sobs coming and going, but finally he manages to sit up. As always, Lance helps him out of the fingerless gloves, letting Keith’s nails dig into the backs of his hands as long as he needs and then it begins:

 

“My name is Keith Kogane-McClain.”

 

Lance nods in encouragement, tightening his grip on Keith’s hands.

 

“I am married. I am 27 years old. I was in a war.”

 

Another nod, and Keith’s tears are falling slower now. The fog in his eyes seem to lift a bit.

 

“I had to kill in order to survive.”

 

Here is where it gets tricky. The self loathing hits and Lance is never sure whether it will cause more panic or make him give into the fatigue that hides right behind his bloodshot eyes.

 

“My older brother didn’t survive. Sh  —  Shiro didn’t make it. I failed him. I failed our parents. If I had just been a little faster. Trained a little harder. Maybe…? Lance, maybe I could have…?”

 

This time, there is no nod. Lance shifts until Keith’s body falls off of his and is lying in the bed beside him. His hand comes to card through the the dark hair that fans out around them. It’s gotten so long since the day they lost Shiro. Lance knows it’s because Shiro used to cut it, and Keith still can’t stomach the idea of letting someone else do anymore than trim the ends once in awhile.

 

“Shiro’s death isn’t on you,” Lance mumbles finally, when the thought of their friend no longer stings the backs of his eyes and fills his throat with cement, “it’s on the Galra.”

 

Keith begins to speak, his eyes filling with tears again, but Lance doesn’t let him finish. Instead, he pulls Keith’s face in until their foreheads are touching. Wet eyelashes tickle his face every so often, the saltiness of tears on his lips from where he presses soothing kisses to Keith’s cheeks. It takes a moment, Lance struggling for words that Keith hasn’t heard yet and then finally, they come to him. “ _You_ are not the Galra. _You_ are not the choices you had to make during the war. _You_ are not to blame for Shiro’s death.”

 

Lance leaves it at that, his hands releasing Keith in favor of pulling him into his chest. It takes awhile, but finally, Keith’s breathing becomes shallow and soft. His body is no longer tense and no more tears fall against Lance’s already damp shirt. Just as Lance starts to drift off, convinced he’s helped Keith rest, a voice breaks the silence. It’s small and tired and probably the saddest thing Lance has ever heard in his life.

 

“I love you.”

 

Lance takes a moment, let’s his own tears spill down his cheeks and then answers, his lips pressed against the top of Keith’s head, “I love you too. So so much.”

Keith sleeps, and Lance begins to whisper his own list to the all dark room.

**Author's Note:**

> scream at me on @ honervas


End file.
